


Hospital Visits

by EbonyPhotographs



Series: We Fear the Cry of Monsters [2]
Category: Afraid of Monsters & Cry of Fear
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, Cognitive Therapy, Depression, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Institutions, Mildly Dubious Consent, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Simon has a good doctor, Slice of Life, Wheelchairs, handicapped
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:26:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29868420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EbonyPhotographs/pseuds/EbonyPhotographs
Summary: “To better explain it… Let me ask you something, Doctor.” Simon folded his fingers together over his lap after setting his drink to the side on the edge of the Doctor’s desk. There was no reason to really get upset about the topic, though he was a bit nervous at the prospect of speaking his mind. It might contribute to the discussion to put his heavier thoughts into perspective.The Doctor nodded approvingly to him: his sign of paying attention.“Do you ever get the impression that you’re avoiding something by facing it directly? Does that make any sense to you?”
Relationships: Simon Henriksson/David Leatherhoff, Simon Henriksson/Sophie
Series: We Fear the Cry of Monsters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180235
Kudos: 9





	Hospital Visits

**Author's Note:**

> In this piece, I tried peeking into what Simon's life would look like after being institutionalized post-game. It has been three years since Simon's life took a dramatic change. He's about 23 years old as this takes place.

Suddenly, Simon’s eyes flew open. The smell of fresh linen encircled all around him. His nostrils filled with cool air and the nullified sounds of the halls beyond gently moved along his bedroom wall. He sat up at first, slow and sluggish, then gathered a long look over the contents surrounding this place he had come to know from heart by now. The interior was the same.

Desk. Dresser. Mirror. Plant. Window.

Simon counted the objects again.

Water bottle. Jacket. Notebook- _Yes, my notebook._

“Oh…” Of course. That’s what made him jostle like that.

Last night, Simon spent a prolific length of the late-night hours scribbling on those lined pages of his newest journal. That explained his lack of breath, seizing muscles, and the vague memory of someone being here in his bed the night before. But at last, he felt safe enough to let down his guard again.

Simon rubbed at his lids and yawned. Once his arms dropped from massaging at the soreness beneath his eyesockets, he waved his fingertips through the air open air beside his bedframe until he found the surface area he was looking for. The young man snagged the edge of his wheelchair’s armrest. The cushions there were getting a bit worn. It might be time to put in a request for new pads to replace the old ones, but Simon would worry over that later. He surely wouldn’t forget – being stuck with the chair every day for the foreseeable future.

Sparse grouses fled his jaw while he situated into the seat of his reliable mobility. Simon adjusted, and began to pedal for his doorway.

David was nowhere to be found. The secretive man left not an ounce of evidence behind to confirm he’d been there in the first place. His traces were nonexistent. It was helpful when covering his presence from those who might seek to separate them, yet the resulting impressions were strangely lonely for the abandoned hospital patient who could not follow him. Simon couldn’t count the times he wanted to shout or lose his temper at that guy for showing up. Just blow his top and scream until the jackass climbed back out that window and ran until he was far far from sight, never to return again.

Simon never did any of that. For fuck’s sake, that unpredictable prude was lying with him at night, and nobody was stopping them. At times, their ‘friendship’ didn’t make much sense. This was one situation the sanitarium couldn’t solve for their patient. No, he’d have to configure why he chose to be merciful towards the addict on his own. Most people who nearly die from vehicular manslaughter wouldn’t be letting the alleged guilty into their lives for any reason other than closure, _maybe_. And that was a strong maybe. Simon was going as far as to let that wreck into his safe-zone. His place of healing from what happened at the end of his first story.

Whatever the hell he was thinking had to stretch beyond what the staff at the hospital would allow. If they only knew what was going on behind those closed doors…

 _They won’t find out._ Simon had said this to David. It flashed through his mind again whilst crossing the newly polished floortiles into the main halls of the facility. Decorated in warm hues of white and gentle greens, the patterned ground led him down the southern halls. His goal was to reach the administrative quarters. Simon was expected there. Of course, there were lenience periods granted to patients such as himself who had more difficulties getting around, so it wouldn’t be problematic for him to run late for his checkup. Nine times out of ten, the doctors would visit their patients in their sequestered rooms anyway. This task of attendance was a small but satisfying way for Simon to gain a sense of productivity. He was doing quite well with it actually. It gave him the rewarding opportunity to stretch. To get out of his private space for a bit and wander around.

Some seconds after eight thirty, Simon positioned his chair wheels adjacent the plaque on the width of the day room wall. The signs facing overheard were as legible as they’d been since his first days here. He gave three knocks with the back of his knuckles against the first door on the left.

“Good morning, Doctor,” Simon said through the thick wood.

In return, he heard an upsurge. “It’s open, Simon. Come in, please.”

Grabbing at the handle, Simon thrust his hand and the passageway opened swiftly. Rolling inside and closing the door behind him was no trouble. It took some time to figure the best method minus any clumsiness, but that phase of awkwardness had passed. Thankfully.

“Good morning,” the Doctor’s voice came more clearly. This time, from behind the flat top surface of his desk. Purnell rose to his feet in readiness to greet his special client.

The two of them had been working together for what felt like a very long while now. It had almost been three years since things took their more dramatic turn of change. Simon hadn’t thought too much about the specifics from back then. Transitioning from apartment life into the constant care of maids and nurses overseeing his day-to-day health accumulated most if not all of what he retained after segregating the traumatic memories. There was beauty in it; progress and forgiveness from those who spent their time building bonds with him, albeit strangers, but considerable ‘friends’ nonetheless. For the Doctor himself – who oversaw the bulk of everything about Simon’s life on paper – he could be considered an absolute confidant. Without him, perhaps Simon’s story wouldn’t have been told to the outside world. Perhaps no one would have cared, and there was gratitude towards the expert for all his efforts but especially for his loyalty.

Doctor Purnell listened. He cared whether it was on the clock or not. When it came down to what mattered, Purnell believed in reverence. That reverence had saved Simon’s life.

Each time Simon looked at the man and his thin, tired eyes, he could tell the veneration remained. Even since the trial, Purnell smiled at the young handicapped man. Including now as he came towards Simon with two steaming cups.

“Here. Some coffee for you. You like vanilla, right?”

“Ah ah,” Simon pointed at him suddenly in a scolding fashion. “Don’t try to trick me again.”

“Hah. You know that smell too well, don’t you?” Purnell chuckled before passing over the opposite paper mug. “You got me.”

“Thank you.” Simon triumphantly took the coffee from his Doctor and inhaled a long whiff from the open flap on the cover. The texture and immediate heat sat comfortably in Simon’s palms. “Salted caramel?”

Doctor Purnell huffed, astounded. “You’re getting better at that.” He sank back into the cushions of his office seat.

“What can I say? I have to have coffee a certain way or it just doesn’t taste right to me.”

“I understand. The diversity of brews can coax different reactions. I’m just glad you enjoy it now.”

“Hm. It wakes me up.”

“Speaking of which,” Doctor Purnell started. “How did you rest last night?”

Simon permitted himself to take a leisure sip of his hot drink first to come up with the correct reply for that. Answering that might be tougher than anticipated but he had time and patience on his side. He just had to find it. The bitter, sugary taste filled Simon’s cheeks. It clung to his teeth as it slid down his tongue and inside with a swallow. Comfort quickly flooded in a rush of mixed delicious flavors. The coffee alone made him believe the possibility of being honest was less frightening.

Yet another debt Simon owed to him.

After all they’d accomplished, he loathed the thought of throwing their development in the opposite direction. Auspicious for the favor of improvement, Simon confided in the Doctor. He simply confessed the truth. That was ‘best’ afterall.

“I tried the journaling last night like you suggested. I wasn’t sure I’d actually give it another shot since, well…”

“Right,” Purnell spoke up. “That is more than fine. You know you didn’t have to.”

“Yeah. But I tried. It sounded like it might help.”

“And, did it? Did it help you?”

“To better explain it… Let me ask you something, Doctor.” Simon folded his fingers together over his lap after setting his drink to the side on the edge of the Doctor’s desk. There was no reason to really get upset about the topic, though he was a bit nervous at the prospect of speaking his mind. It might contribute to the discussion to put his heavier thoughts into perspective.

The Doctor nodded approvingly to him: his sign of paying attention.

“Do you ever get the impression that you’re avoiding something by facing it directly? Does that make any sense to you?”

“Well,” Purnell murmured and glanced over his organizational binder to gather some thought. “As people, I believe we all tend to experience certain feelings like that. I am aware though that your case is especially amplified… It’s been said that we lose what we hide in plain sight.”

“Yeah. It’s as if… The answer to something is just within your reach, and you probably already know it. But you try anyway to handle the problem with your back turned to it. I guess I’ve let this get the better of me already and I don’t even know why.” Simon was grateful he had put down the coffee earlier, otherwise he might have been wearing it considering how tightly his hands were starting to smash together. “Gah… I literally can’t figure out what it is I saw through the book. I thought it would work. But I-I’m scared this will make me a burden to everyone who’s put their trust in me again.”

Purnell heeded this description. It wasn’t invalid, yet it certainly represented some misjudgment of himself despite the clarity. Simon was no burden.

“This is absolutely an imaginary scenario then.”

Simon flinched at the wording. “No. You don’t understand-”

Before he could make any additions to his self-depreciative comparisons, he was sliced short by the next rebuttal Purnell gave.

“The burdens that follow you deserve to be explored, Simon, so that you might reach closure. They do not in any way define your life as you live it. Especially not around those who have grown to care for you. It is important to me that I convince you of this,” he paused. The psychiatrist breathed in a rather saddened fashion. He spoke softer. “My purpose in being by your side is to show that you can convince _yourself_ of the good you possess. You can overcome. And you’re facing that next burden to rise above. It may be confusing at first but you get to choose which direction is forward.”

No burdening? To ‘convince one’s self’ instead? Simon slowly shook his head. He _was_ confused for sure. Purnell had previously said things like that to encourage him. It should have been plain and simple to understand by now. Regardless, he was twisted around by those claims. Each utterance seeped through his mind and exposed him to something he still thought impossible.

He believed his handicap was definitely a burden to those who ‘cared’ for him no matter what they would say or do to persuade otherwise. If not that, then it must have been the crimes he committed that paranoid Simon. His conflict laid in decided whether that care was simply pity or something true, born out of hope. What did it mean to discard the happiness shared by those he’d come to know from this hospital? Drawing the line was as puzzling as differing it all apart. Everyone here surely knew – they all knew what he’d done to those officers. It couldn’t be erased from their thoughts when they looked at him… The evil his hands committed. How terrible and deranged he appeared to the courthall. And Simon feared constantly whatever other thoughts they had about him.

Eventually, Simon sent his sight up again. He surveyed the Doctor’s body language in all its gentleness and the absence of an ulterior motive was undeniable. Purnell was completely visible. He didn’t want to lose such pure sentiments. Not from Purnell. Not from anyone.

Not even…

“We are working together on this,” Purnell went on. Visceral fright clenched the man’s chest at any indication of distrust from the soul before him. “Remember how you refused to even talk to me some years ago?”

“O-Of course I did. Wouldn’t anyone?”

Simon’s irises suddenly widened. He shot his brows up. Putting it that way almost made himself sound partially normal, didn’t it? Did he deserve to say such a thing?

“I think so, too. So, let this be a chance. It is alright if you lose your direction a little bit on the way to the greater goal. Keep writing as you see fit, Simon. I still think it’ll help in the longrun. What you’ve lost, you can also find again.”

“…Alright,” he surrendered. Simon brought the coffee cup back into his possession and to his lips for another helping. He thanked Purnell after that, not only for the advice, but for his consistency. “Being reassured means more than I know how to say. I wish I were better at this.”

“But you _are_ better. You’ll see. Just make time to reflect on that. The book will help show you. Stay strong, Simon.”

A quiet sigh fluttered out in rejoinder. The guise of defeat was written all over him. To his own surprise however, Simon felt he was actually realizing some significant things. It made his head hurt, but nobody was pressing him to think. There was no force in this process. So long as he didn’t overwhelm himself about the matter, it would be okay. Hopefully.

“Ah… When will I get to see Sophie again?”

The man behind his desk shifted his gaze downward once more to inspect the exposed papers lined up with notes, paperclips and highlighted tabs.

“That should be simple. Within the next week, she should be able to make the visit. We’ll give her a call to see if she’s available.”

“Makes sense. I’ll wait to hear about it then.”

One last nod and Purnell readily stood to gather up the material categorizing his patient’s information. He folded it up, closed the plastic slips and seal the folders, then stash it into a row of labeled documents within locked cabinet drawers. It was a habitual method – one that defined the Doctor’s content. This convergence had reached its finish. A success at the start of the day to satisfy them both.

Simon tossed his empty coffee cup toward the trash bin then grabbed hold for the edge of his wheels when the Doctor came towards him for another encounter. He faced his patient quickly.

Simon’s sight angled at an incline, wide at the lids and unsuspecting. “What is it?”

“About your strolling hours in the afternoon and evening: I’ve decided to increase the lengths.”

“…Huh? Why’s that?”

“I would like you to have the freedom to roam the activity centers or even just relax outside your room a bit more. You’ve done excellently to prove that your behavior is fine while you’re on your own in those hours. Think of it as a way of combating the burdens from your therapy, but also try to consider those methods we discussed. Alright? The nurses have reviewed your schedules.”

Ah. So this was a review then. That meant Simon would be re-evaluated soon.

“I see. Okay. Thank you, again.”

It was a good sign. Unexpected, but good. In all likelihood, Purnell was approving something for him by adding a little ‘extra credit’ (as some of the other doctors fancied calling it) to his behavioral sheets. This may have been a plan extending farther than Simon could see, so he would do well enough to trust it for now.

Simon was nervous. He let himself smile anyway. What an interesting session this turned out to be.

**Author's Note:**

> (Author's note: you are never alone. Please believe that there is good in you and never be afraid to share your pain with someone else. https://www.iasp.info/resources/Crisis_Centres/ )


End file.
